A Varia Christmas Carol
by StMomo
Summary: In which Fran gets ripped off a hundred dollars and gets visited by three ghosts. A modern, twisted re-telling of the classic 'A Christmas Carol' by Charles Dickens. For The Rudiment Goldbrick.
1. Preface

This is for The Rudiment Goldbrick, who requested that something be written up on Fran or Belphegor. They will actually both appear in this, along with the rest of the Varia and a few other minor and unimportant people like Mukuro.

Now, because I'm just a little unhinged at times, my mind has been in full Christmas mode for the last several weeks despite it being April and now May. So I've been soaking up everything Christmas and this…this is the result of that little quirk. A totally off-season story focusing on a retelling of the classic story 'A Christmas Carol' by Charles Dickens. Like the original it will have this preface and five staves (or chapters, if you will).

Enjoy!


	2. Stave One: Mammon's Ghost

The silver tinsel was hung, just so, over the mantle, Lussuria stretching as far as he could to drape it perfectly. Almost got it, almost got it…there! Lussuria grinned, stepping back to admire his handiwork. It was perfect, the most beautiful string of tinsel ever hung by any hands. He actually felt he might cry, it was just that perfect and he was just so proud of himself. Glancing at the younger male sitting on the couch who had his nose buried in a book, attempting to ignore everything going on around him, Lussuria grinned larger and gestured towards his masterpiece.

"Oh Fran-chan! How does it look? Isn't it just the prettiest thing you've ever seen?"

Completely devoid of expression and not bothering to look up, Fran spoke. "No."

Lussuria's face fell, his mouth opening and closing as he wrung his hands. "But…but you didn't even look!"

Again, Fran didn't even bother looking up. "I don't need to. It's tinsel. It's automatically ugly."

"But Fran, tinsel is the loveliest thing ever! It's so sparkly and glittery and Christmas like! And it goes so well with the popcorn strings and the wreaths and oh, all the pretty Christmas things!"

This time Fran did look at the gesturing, agitated Lussuria as the man flung his arms out in various directions, trying wildly to gesture at all the decorations he'd spent the last two days hanging up. Lussuria was, Fran thought, the only person stupid enough to decorate the base of a league of assassin's for Christmas. And to not only decorate it, but to go as overboard as he could. There wasn't a hallway or corner not left decorated with garlands and wreaths and ornaments and you couldn't step more than a foot in front of you without passing under some mistletoe. Fran suspected that this was because Lussuria was just so hormonal and so gay that he wanted to kiss every person in the base. Stupid horny homosexual. Fran had spent as much time in his room or standing still under mistletoe free spots over the past two days, not wanting to get stuck under the berry bunches with anyone. The mere thought of it made him cringe.

Lussuria seemed to notice quickly that his approach was having no effect on the stoic teal-haired boy and quickly changed tacks, determined to get the younger man in the spirit of Christmas. "So, what does Fran-chan want for Christmas?"

Fran buried his face in his book again, trying his best to ignore Lussuria. Must ignore…must ignore. But Lussuria was nothing but diligent. He just kept talking, the cheerful note in his voice grating on Fran's nerves, listing off things that he'd considered getting Fran for Christmas.

"I was thinking a new frog hat, but I couldn't find another one. Do you know how hard it is to find those things? Too hard! Then I was thinking maybe you'd like a nice book, but I don't know what kind of books you like to read. Then I was going to get you a nice sweater, just like mine, but I didn't know your size!" Lussuria whined out, prattling on and on as Fran's left eye started to twitch, looking up at the garish creation of yarn that Lussuria was wearing, the bright red's and green's of the sweater bad enough without the holly jolly looking Santa depicted on it. It was becoming harder and harder to tune out the other man.

"…and then I saw that new season of Power Rangers, you know that Jungle Rage one with the sexy guy playing the wolf in that hot purple spandex, and I was like, well me and Fran could watch that together! Would you like that, huh?"

And that was the last straw.

"That's not the new season and it's Jungle Fury. And no, I wouldn't. I don't want anything for Christmas."

"Oh, you don't? You would really be okay with getting no gifts?" Lussuria asked, gazing at him like he was an angel. "Oh! I get it! It's all about the giving with you! What a man! Such Christmas spirit!"

"No, I don't want anything and I'm not giving anything. I don't celebrate Christmas. Or any holiday."

At that Lussuria gasped loudly, a hand coming up to clutch at his chest as he stared at Fran in disbelief. "Don't…celebrate…Christmas? How can that be? Everyone celebrates Christmas? Even Xanxus celebrates Christmas!"

Fran just stared up at the shocked Lussuria. He didn't know why, but it was true that everyone in the Varia celebrated Christmas in their own weird little ways. There was no doubt that Lussuria, with his flaming Christmas spirit, was definitely into celebrating the ridiculous holiday. Levi, Squalo and even Bel seemed to actually celebrate it too, though Fran suspected Levi was just doing it to make Lussuria happy and to seem agreeable and 'cool' to the boss, that Squalo was just doing it to shut up Lussuria, and that Bel was simply in it because of the presents. But it was far from the truth to say that Xanxus 'celebrated' Christmas. While it was true that Xanxus allowed the base to be decorated, for Christmas cookies to be baked and festivities to go on, and while it was true that he accepted Christmas gifts, though he never gave any, to say he celebrated it was stretching the truth. Everyone knew that the only reason he allowed anything Christmas-y into the house was because he quite liked the eggnog, which, though alcoholic enough on its own, he felt needed several more shots of whiskey. Hell, for most of the holidays he was passed out drunk in his office.

Now Fran would've said a hearty bah-humbug if it wasn't just so clichéd and unrefined. So he did the dignified thing and chose not to respond, simply staring at Lussuria with a 'you are an idiot' expression as he stood, snapping his book closed. He looked up for a second, then checked to make sure that no one was in his way before running past the mistletoe in front of him, stopping under the next mistletoe free spot before checking again to make sure he was quite safe before making another short jaunt to the next mistletoe free spot. And on and on it went until he reached the safety of his doorway. Sure, he looked and felt like an idiot doing that, but it kept him free from awkward 'under the mistletoe' moments like the one he'd had with Squalo earlier. Both men had ended up under a sprig of mistletoe. Thankfully, they'd been alone in the hallway and had just walked in opposite directions, pretending that it had never happened.

Fran stood looking at his door for a moment, eyes narrowed. It was the same solid oak door that it had always been, the same fancy, curled silver knob. But Fran just couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. He flicked his eyes up to the top of the door then down to the bottom, seeing nothing wrong. Shrugging it off as nothing, he reached out to grab the doorknob. Or what had been a doorknob. For a second, he swore it looked like the half-hooded face of a baby. He blinked rapidly before looking at the doorknob again, seeing only that, a doorknob. Oh Christ, they'd driven him so crazy with this Christmas stuff that he was casting illusions without meaning to and even believing them himself.

Turning the doorknob with a sigh, he pushed open the bedroom door, peering around the room. No illusions in there. Reaching up to yank off the ridiculous frog hat he was forced to wear day after day and throwing it across the room, he walked over to the bed, sitting down with his back against the headboard. A little television should calm him down. Grabbing the T.V. remote from his side table, he flicked the little television set across the room on, flicking through the channels until he reached a rerun of Ronin Warriors. Man, he hadn't seen that show in years. That had been one cool old show though if he remembered right.

Sailor Moon followed Ronin Warriors, and then came another cartoon and another. Fran quickly found himself zoning out. Though he quickly snapped to at a loud clanging sound. It almost sounded like someone dragging something heavy along the floor and the sound was coming closer and closer. What were they doing now, Fran wondered apprehensively, his eyes turning towards the door.

To say he was shocked when a moment later, the transparent figure of a hooded baby walked through the closed door would be an understatement. The baby didn't look the least bit familiar to him and he was sure this time that he had not cast any illusions. So what was going on? Fran stared at the baby, a cute little thing with a face half-concealed behind a hood, dragging a thick coil of chain that was draped over him, falling a good foot behind him. Upon a closer look, the chain seemed to be made up of money, safes, and lock boxes. How weird.

"Who are you?"

The baby stopped in front of Fran, seeming to look up at him though it wasn't clear as to whether it actually was or not because of the hood. "Muh. How rude."

For the second time that day, Fran found himself twitching. Did a baby…what had to be an illusionary baby…just question his manners?

"Who are you?" he repeated.

"Ask me who I was," the baby replied.

Tone dripping sarcasm, Fran rolled his eyes. "Fine. Who were you?"

"In life I was Mammon, the Arcobaleno and the Mist Guardian of the Varia."

"Uh-huh."

For a second everything was silent, the two simply looking at each other. Then the baby's transparent little mouth twitched upwards in a smirk.

"You don't believe me? What? You think I'm an illusion?"

"Because you are."

At Fran's words, the room was shot through with thick black tentacles that appeared out of nowhere. The baby's smirk grew larger, almost as if asking if Fran still thought he was an illusion. That thought was out of the boy's head now as he gazed around the room thoughtfully before turning to the ghostly visitor.

"Wow. That's really unimpressive."

Mammon's smirk disappeared then, quickly dissolving into a scowl. "Shut up."

Like Fran would do that though. "So, why are you here?"

Mammon's smirk appeared again as he held up a hand. "Pay me."

Fran just stared at him, his expression one of clear disbelief.

"What?" Mammon questioned. "I don't work for free."

"I'm not paying you."

"Yes, you will."

"No."

"You're really going to want to pay."

Sighing and grumbling loudly, Fran reached into his side table drawer and extracted his wallet, flipping it open and pulling out a twenty. Mammon took it greedily, before clearing his throat and holding out his hand again, wagging his fingers in a 'more, gimme more' gesture. Fran glared but nonetheless but another twenty into his hand.

"I'm here cause it turns out money isn't everything. Who knew?"

Fran's eye was now twitching violently. This…thing…was even more annoying then Belphegor and that was saying something.

"No, I meant why you are here in my room?" Fran asked, speaking around gritted teeth.

Mammon held out a hand again. "Make it an even sixty this time."

Fran grumbled but pulled out another three twenties, handing them to Mammon before looking at him expectantly.

"You're really quite stupid, aren't you?" Mammon asked, smirk growing wider still.

"I did not just pay you to tell me that."

"Yeah, you did."

And with that, Mammon turned and walked back through the door, the sound of clanking chains following in his wake before dying completely. Fran looked at his now empty wallet before letting out a loud curse. He really did not like that kid. In a huff, he fell back on his bed, staring at his ceiling before the stress of the night finally took its toll on him and he fell asleep.


	3. Stave Two: The Ghost Of Christmas Past

Fran woke from a nightmare, full of greedy babies and horrible Christmas sweaters that kept trying to strangle him. The room was cold, but then it normally was, the Varia boss being a cheap bastard who refused to turn up the heat. Fran opened his eyes a crack, groping down blearily for the hem of his blanket. Pulling it up as he slipped under it, he snuggled into a ball, trying to get warm.

Opening his eyes fully, he looked around his room. The first thing he checked, as always, was that no one was in his room. Hey, this **was **the Varia and it **was **full of some really peculiar people. He had no doubts that there was someone, or several someone's actually, who would have no problems sneaking into people's rooms while they were sleeping so that they could mince up that poor unsuspecting person. Or worse yet, rape them. Fran shivered at that disturbing thought and double-checked the room, actually getting out of his bed so that he could go slide open the closet. Poking his head in, he saw nobody. Good there, he thought, shutting the closet door and heading back to his bed. He checked under the bed too before crawling back into it. Now that he knew that his room was completely intruder free, he could finally go back to sleep. Reaching over for the remote that he'd set on his side-table, he hit the power button and the television, which had been flickering what looked like an old episode of Futurama out at the room, shut off, the images fading to black.

Fran smiled as he snuggled under his blanket, pulling it up over his head and enjoying the silence in the room. Shutting his eyes, he readied himself for sleep again. He drifted off quickly too, arriving at that happy place in between sleep and awakeness within minutes. But he was all too rudely snapped out of that blissful state of near-sleep when a loud gong echoed through the headquarters. Fran groaned. It was that stupid antique grandfather clock of Lussuria's. He really hated that thing; it woke him up at least once a night as it gonged through the hours. He'd thought a couple times about just destroying it and blaming it on one of the other Varia members, but had as yet to go through with the plan.

Tugging the blankets over him, he waited for the clock to chime the hours, waited for the quiet again. Gong. A quarter past. Gong. Half past. Gong. Three quarters past. Fran listened, seething inwardly as the clock went through all twelve hours. When it rang twelve it stopped. Okay, who the hell was fucking with the clock? He knew that it had been past one when he went to bed. It was still dark outside so there was no way that the clock was chiming the noon-hour. And besides, he never slept in that late, never had a chance too really. Some commotion would always wake him up in the morning. It was just impossible for it to be twelve at night again, for a whole day to have passed.

Oh well. He was going back to sleep. He'd figure out whom or what was fricking with the stupid clock tomorrow. Or better yet, he'd destroy that silly thing tomorrow. He'd blame it on Bel-sempai. Bel had been exceptionally mean to him all day; he rather deserved getting yelled at for breaking the clock. The clock chimed four more times, counting the quarters of the hour until it arrived at one. And then thankfully, it stopped. Finally, Fran thought, closing his eyes and preparing once more to go back to sleep.

But the gods sure had him on their shit list that day because not a second after he closed his eyes, the room was filled with a bright light. Even under the blanket with his eyes closed, the intensity of that bright, white light hurt Fran's eyes and he groaned as he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Not that he had the blanket for too long as it was ripped off of him promptly.

That's right. A hand very clearly came down and ripped the blankets from him. Not from the foot of the bed, where he'd expected someone would be, not from in front of him or from behind him. Nope, a hand came down from above him and the blankets were thrown off of him. Cracking his eyes slightly open against the bright light, he found himself face-to-face with a figure hovering just above him, seeming to hang in thin air. That figure also appeared to be the source of that bright light and Fran cringed away without even thinking about it.

"VOOOI!"

And cue cringing even more as the ghost, not even five centimeters from Fran's face, bellowed at the top of his voice.

"Get out of bed!"

At the second shout, Fran stopped cringing and could seem to do nothing more than just stare. The figure looked and sounded exactly like Squalo. It had the same long hair, the same face, the same habit of shouting everything. Except as far as he knew, Squalo wasn't in the habit of wearing sparkly, short, white tunics, held closed by glowing, gold belts. But he really couldn't be sure of what Squalo would or wouldn't wear. He'd never thought to check his closet before and he probably didn't want to. Who knew what kinky fetishes the long-haired commander was hiding?

"Squalo-sempai, if you borrowed Bel-sempai's wires again in order to 'fly' through the base, I think he'll be upset. Should I call him in and we'll find out?"

The Squalo hanging above him glared daggers downwards, left eye twitching in a rather foreboding way.

"YOU FUCKING BRAT!"

Fran blinked, wishing he had thought of grabbing a pair of ear-plugs from the supply he kept in his desk drawer before he had opened his mouth. Because now the Squalo ghost had closed the distance between them to kissing distance and was angrily screaming in his face. Fran's eardrums were protesting and he was sure that they would pop any second now. Squalo's words above him kind of merged together, unimportant, Fran only catching bits and pieces here and there.

"…A FUCKING GHOST, YOU LITTLE SHIT! YOU KNOW, OOGIE BOOGIE, BOO, SCARY! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE SCARED, YOU LITTLE PISSANT!"

At this, Fran thought it was about time to cut him off. This was the second so-called ghost that had come to him and after his less than savory encounter with the first one, he really wanted the second 'ghost' to leave, if it even was a ghost and not just Squalo trying to mentally screw with him before raping him. Though Fran did have to wonder how he'd gotten into his room as he was sure he hadn't heard the door open and close. But then, he wouldn't put it past Squalo to scale the walls.

"Uh-huh," Fran said his expression dead-pan. He noticed Squalo's hands clenching and figured another yelling fit was soon to come. So, he ducked and took cover so to speak, rolling sideways off of bed, throwing out his hands to stop himself from ending face-first on the floor. Once on the floor, he hurriedly stood up and walked to the other side of the room. Turning to face the 'ghost' Squalo, he crossed his arms and simply stared. The ghost's hands were rummaging around underneath his toga and Fran felt a little disturbed. He really did not want to know what Squalo was packing down there.

It was a surprise, to say the least, as the ghost pulled out a shimmering, transparent sword from under the skirt of his toga. Fran had time to vaguely wonder where the hell the ghost had pulled that from before the ghost charged at him with a scream that soundly oddly like 'slice you up!" Fran dodged the best he could but the sword still found its mark. It entered through his shoulder but Fran oddly felt no discomfort or pain, just an overwhelming coldness. He looked down at his shoulder and saw that the blade had indeed entered through and gone out the other side but that there was no wound to speak of, just that odd coldness. With a scream, the ghost brought the blade out and Fran's shoulder returned to normal temperature. But he suffered several cold spots throughout the rest of his body as the ghost stabbed him repeatedly.

No wounds to speak of but those cold spots that accompanied the sword was rather annoying and Fran was glad when, with a strangled curse, the ghost just turned away and chucked the sword across the room, where it passed through a wall. Fran just stood and stared at the ghost, his expression disbelieving. The ghost glared at him in return, growling softly.

"I don't suppose there's any real swords around this place, which by the way, where the hell is this place? What is this place?"

Fran almost smirked at that. Obviously this ghost was not as bright as the last one and Fran decided to have a bit of fun with it.

"It's a cult. A cult of peace and love. Swords are forbidden." All this was said with a serious tone and a straight face.

The ghost blinked several times. "That's really gay."

"I know. And by the way, why are you here? I mean, I'm pretty sure the long-haired commander isn't dead and if he was, he'd have no reason to haunt me."

The ghost blinked. "Didn't the last ghost tell you?"

Fran solemnly shook his head. And promptly wished he hadn't as the ghost started screaming again.

"FUCKING BABY! USELESS FUCK!"

The ghost turned to glare around the room. His eyes came back to Fran. "Little brat! He was supposed to tell you that you'd be visited by three ghosts! We're all going to look like people you know because your puny little brain couldn't handle the greatness of our original forms! I'm the ghost of Christmas fucking past. Your past. Now you're fucking coming with me, brat! Let's get this shit over with!"

With the last word, the ghost reached out and locked Fran's wrist in an iron grip, seeming to purposely squeeze as hard as he could, beginning to drag Fran across the room and straight towards the wall that separated Fran's third floor bedroom from the outside world. Though Fran struggled to break the grip, the ghost held tight. The struggling grew as they approached the wall but it was still in vain. The ghost passed right through the wall, still holding tight to Fran, who wasn't so lucky. For at the last second, the ghost let go of Fran, chuckling manically as Fran crashed hard against the wall, bouncing back and falling down. He could already feel the beginnings of bruises from the harsh impact and he was pretty sure, by the blood running from his nose and the swelling, burning feeling of that appendage that he'd broken his nose.

The ghost stood, hovering in mid-air outside the wall, nearly doubled over with laughter. He tried to get the laughter under control as he swooped through the wall again, floating above Fran's prone figure. "Sorry about that! My hand slipped," he said loudly, laughter in his face and voice. Fran could only glare mutely up at the ghost as he wiped away the blood flowing from his nose with his forearm, wincing at the pain that came from doing that.

"Now, let's try that again," the ghost said, smirking as he grabbed Fran's wrist, dragging the boy across the floor towards the wall, Fran's other hand scrambling for hold on the floor, his protests falling on seemingly deaf ears. This time though, the ghost held on to the end and they both passed straight through the wall, appearing suddenly in a dusty street full of ramshackle houses and seedy apartment buildings. There were several streetlights lining the street, many of them broken, and here and there stood little clusters of people in alleyways, camping in boxes or huddling around trash-bin fires.

Fran could only blink as the ghost let go of him. He slowly got to his feet, his eyes traveling around the square. Everything that had been was gone. The dark, the bitter coldness, all of it was gone. They'd found themselves in an early morning scene, rather ugly and disheartening, the sun just breaking through a gray sky and the temperature mildly cold. This was a scene Fran remembered all too well actually.

"VOOI! Recognize this, brat?" the ghost asked, looking around him with distaste.

"Yeah."

"So where are we?"

Fran looked over at the ghost, a trifled annoyed. "Shouldn't you know? You are the one who brought us here."

The ghost shrugged. "It's your memories, not mine."

Blinking, Fran turned to look around again. So they were in his memories? That was fucked up. What was this, A Christmas Carol? How stupid.

"Can we go back now?"

The ghost grunted. "No."

"Then let's get this over with."

With a sigh, Fran turned away from the ghost, following the path he'd trod many times during his youth, the ghost trailing behind him, cursing loudly and talking, all of which Fran ignored. Yeah, he knew exactly where they were. How could he forget it? He was home. Home again, home again, jiggity jog, home again, home again, with Fran the frog. Okay, so maybe it didn't sound as cheerful as the Mother Goose rhyme and wasn't as cool as the Blade Runner version, but damn it, it came from him so it was better. Because Fran was just cool like that.

Yep, he thought, taking in the old sights and sounds, he was home. Back in good old Paris, France. He almost chuckled at that. He hadn't been back in this part of France for years. Hell, he hadn't been back in France for a couple years period, not since the Varia had recruited him and he'd been living in a nicer section of Paris when that had happened. That didn't mean the years had changed his memories any and he found he still knew the ways to go, the places to step, the spots to avoid. He knew where he was, he knew where he was heading. He was in the 'slums' of Paris, heading towards the Red-light District. He just didn't know why.

"VOOI! BRAT! ARE YOU LISTENING?"

His ears rang at the close-ranged attack and he reacted naturally, backing up suddenly with a strangled cry. By all rights, considering the amount of people milling around on the street he was walking on, he should have bumped into someone. But, though he stepped back into the man walking behind him, the man just passed right through him and never seemed to notice anything. The man just kept walking, never even glancing back at him.

Catching his balance, Fran straightened up and with a confused look, turned to the ghost.

The Squalo-ghost seemed to have found this incident beyond hilarious and was now chuckling wildly at Fran. Ass was all the teal-haired boy could think.

"You should see your face, kid! It's fucking priceless!" the ghost wheezed out in between laughing. "You think you'd be smart enough to realize that since these are your memories, the people you're seeing aren't real and can't hear, see, or touch you. You're a moron kid. What are those people at that peace and love cult doing to your brain?"

Fran glared at the ghost, not impressed. "Raping it," he muttered in response to the ghost's last question as he turned around, getting back to walking.

They had just hit the boundaries of the red-light district now. Oh god, he still knew this place like the back of his hand even after all this time.

Not even ten steps in and he'd already reached the place that he'd known from the beginning he'd been heading for. Looking up a bit, he looked at the rundown apartment building in front of him. He didn't know why he was able to see it. This really must be a memory because this place had been reduced to rubble when he was fifteen, one of the occupants finally succeeding in catching this shithole on fire.

"There, I saw. Can I go back to bed now?" Fran asked the ghost, who had been following him.

"VOOOI! NO! I HAVE TO SHOW YOU THREE MEMORIES SO JUST GET OVER IT!"

Fran sighed heavily. Well, this ghost had definitely got the personality of Squalo down along with the looks. He was as much of an annoying idiot as the long-haired commander was.

"Okay then. Can you get to showing me the memories already? Because it really isn't fun being around you."

"YOU LITTLE BRAT! YOU THINK I'M ENJOYING THIS!"

That screaming was getting really annoying as well, Fran mused. But at least the ghost started doing something useful because within a blink of Fran's eye, the duo had traveled to another scene. Fran knew exactly where they were, as he glanced around the shabby apartment, with its busted and sparse furniture, leaking taps and windows taped with cardboard. They were in his childhood apartment that much was clear. Wow, the ghost had brought them up six floors without making them walk. How amazing.

What was amazing though was what Fran, the adult, was looking at. Namely, Fran the child. The child Fran couldn't have been more than four years old, curled up on a ratty old couch with a scrubby coloring book and a box of broken crayons, coloring in a picture of a jolly looking Santa Claus. A woman, horribly thin, who had the look of someone beautiful gone to seed, was bustling around the little apartment. She was barely dressed in a too-tight miniskirt and a button down shirt with nary a button done up, the tails knotted below her breasts.

Fran the adult knew who she was. He didn't remember this too well though. He'd tried to block out much of his past and being confronted with it was very awkward. He watched, expressionless as the woman hustled over to his child form, her too-high heels making hollow clicks on the rotting floorboards. She bent over the couch and gave Fran the child a brief kiss on the head.

"Be a good boy while Mommy's away. She's gotta work tonight but she'll bring back pancakes okay. And make sure to lock the door," she said as she straightened up.

"But Mommy, it's Christmas Eve. Can't you stay home with me tonight?" the child Fran asked, looking up at his mother pleadingly.

"Fuck, Fran. You know this. Mommy doesn't get Christmas off. It's just a stupid holiday anyways. Santa doesn't come around here."

With that, the woman turned away from the childhood Fran and made her way quickly to the door, opening it and hurrying out, the door swinging shut behind her. Her heels made fading clicking sounds as she hurried down the hallway outside the door. It sounded, to the adult Fran's ears, as it must have sounded to the childhood Fran's ears. It sounded like his mother just couldn't wait to be free of him. Fran and the ghost watched, silent, as the childhood Fran got up off the couch and made his way slowly to the door, pushing the chair that stood beside the door to stand in front of the door. Climbing onto the chair, the little Fran slid the deadbolt into place again and clicked the lock shut with a final snap. He glared at the shut door.

"You're wrong, Mamma. Santa will come." The childhood Fran sank down in the chair, dropping his face into his raised knees, and started crying.

"HEY BRAT!" the ghost screamed at the adult Fran, engaging in another close-ranged assault to his ears. "DID SANTA EVER COME?"

"No. Not once." The adult Fran's face was still expressionless but a touch of bitterness had crept into his voice, barely noticeable but still there. "Now can we get on to the next memory? I'd like to get back to sleep sometime soon."

The ghost gawped at him. "VOOOI! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE SAD! OR MAD! OR FEELING SOMETHING YOU LITTLE PRICK! EVERYONE ELSE WHO GOES THROUGH THIS IS CRACKING UP BY NOW!"

"Whatever. Just let's move on."

With a humph, the ghost reached over and tugged on Fran and again, in the blink of an eye, the scenery changed once more. The ghost and the adult Fran were now standing in the hallway in front of the apartment, staring at the back of a slightly older child Fran. Now this memory was one Fran remembered, he thought, as he stared at the back of his ten-year old form. This was his tenth Christmas…and what a Christmas it had been. He'd saved up all his pocket change that year to buy Christmas for him and his mother. The ten-year old Fran's hands were filled with brown paper bags, packaged inside was a whole Christmas feast. There was wine, good cheese, fresh bread, deli meats, ice-cream and other goodies. He'd planned to surprise his mother with it that morning. But what had happened? Oh yes, the adult Fran remembered this one all too well.

He was staring, just like his ten year old self, at the apartment door. A dirty old sock was wrapped over the doorknob and he knew what that meant. Yep, he'd learned at an early age exactly what that meant. It meant dear old Mommy had one of her many 'clients' in the apartment with her and they really didn't want little old Fran around. The duo watched silently as the ten-year old Fran stood in front of the door for a good two minutes, unmoving, his face turning splotchy red and his expression one of pure anger. The bags dropped to the ground, the wine bottle making a spectacular crashing sound as the ten-year old Fran turned around, facing them now, making his way clumsily down the hallway. His only words were echoed by the adult Fran.

"Merry fucking Christmas."

As the ghost turned towards the adult Fran, opening his mouth, the adult Fran cut him off.

"Let's just move onto the next memory already."

"BUT BRAT! WE'RE NOT FINISHED HERE!" the ghost shouted, a hint of glee in his voice. Fran's eyes shut tight as the sound of the apartment door opened up and lumbering footsteps were heard. Yeah, he knew they weren't. He knew by the stink of cheap liquor and the footsteps of his mother client what was coming. Little stupid Fran was about to learn that you didn't interrupt his mother's clients.

"Let's move on," he said again, his eyes still shut as the footsteps came closer, his mother's voice now shouting to leave Fran alone.

"WE'RE NOT DONE!"

"Yes, we are."

Opening his eyes, the adult Fran reached over and did the only thing he could think of. He ripped the ghost's belt, the source of the light in the first place, clean off the ghost. As the ghost's toga fell open, the ghost and the belt flickered between being and nothingness and a deep darkness fell around Fran. The next second, he was back in his bed as if nothing had ever happened. The blankets were still up around him, there was no belt in his hand and all was silent.

"That was one weird dream," Fran murmured as exhaustion came over him and his eyes drifted shut. Within seconds after the last word being said, Fran was soundly back asleep.


	4. Stave Three: Christmas Present

Fran was so exhausted, in fact, that he slept like the dead. He did not awaken to every little noise as he so often did. He didn't even stir at the loudest noises, the bangs and loud voices that signaled that the last few members of the Varia were scurrying off to bed. Nope, he slept better than he had in years in fact, peacefully lost in dreamless slumber, his chest rising and falling, snoring lightly. He slept through the gong of the clock as it worked its way through to one again. Though he twitched a bit as the room was filled with a bright, green-tinged light, he just drew the blanket higher over his head, shifted and slept on.

"Ushishi."

That trademark laughter did draw him slowly out of his sleep as it continued on. Opening his eyes, Fran slowly drew the blankets back from over his head. And immediately drew them back up as he found himself face to face with what appeared, at first blearily eyed gaze to be Belphegor.

"Sempai, how'd you get into my room?" Fran asked, his voice a little muffled through the layers of blankets over him.

"Ushishishi." Fran could only groan lowly at that annoying laughter as it filtered through the room once more. His ears perked up and his head popped back out from under the covers at the next spoken words though.

"I'm not your sempai, whoever that is. I'm the ghost of Christmas present."

Oh, damn. Not this again, Fran thought as he stared over at the other occupant of his bed. It did look like Belphegor, but then again, it did not. It shared his general appearance, much like the last ghost had shared Squalo's general appearance, but, for the life of Fran, he couldn't recall seeing Belphegor without his trademark tiara and clothed in velvety green robes.

Fran just stared at the Belphegor looking ghost who was sprawled out on his bed, one hand behind his head as the other popped bonbons into his mouth. As soon as one sweetly decadent treat was in his mouth, this Bel apparition would materialize another out of thin air. And he looked quite comfortable too, lazing around on Fran's bed, taking up as much room as he liked leaving the other male edging away from him until Fran was half-hanging off the bed.

With a stilted groan, Fran gave up trying to stay in bed and just rolled over, letting himself fall on the floor, catching himself on his hands. He slowly stood up from his spot on the floor and looked towards his bed, where the Belphegor ghost was smiling, eating candies, and still lazing around. He looked quite content and Fran felt his dislike for this ghost rising. It was bad enough he looked like Bel-sempai, but he even had the lazy disregard for everyone else that Bel-sempai had. Yes, this looked like it would be the worst ghost. And that was counting the last two, who hadn't particularly been gems, to say the least.

"Hmm…why is the puny, little mortal looking at the great Ghost of Christmas Present like that?"

The very tone of this guy…thing…ghost…annoyed Fran beyond all belief. That tone of superiority and sarcasm mixed together. Man, this guy was just too like his chosen appearance.

"Let me guess," Fran asked, glaring at the ghost some more, sarcasm lacing his every word, "you're here to show me the joys of Christmas?"

The ghost's laughter, the trademark maniacal giggle of Bel-sempai's, filled the room for a few seconds.

"Yeah, something like that," the ghost remarked, popping another chocolate into his mouth. Chewing loudly and talking with his mouth full, the ghost continued while Fran marveled at his horrible manners. "I'm here because you're a real Christmas bitch. Really, did you know that every time someone hates Christmas, we Christmas ghosts fade a bit? You're really killing us, you little brat."

At this, Fran was sort of overjoyed. And being the little brat that the ghosts kept calling him, he couldn't help but try out that idea.

"Christmas sucks."

At this, the ghost lying across his bed sparkled and faded from existence, popping back in all his lazy glory a second later. Fran laughed and repeated that action.

"Christmas sucks. Christmas sucks. Christmas sucks!"

At each proclamation, the ghost faded and re-appeared, his large smile starting to take on a very ugly, very angry state. The ghost laughed again, the 'ushishi'ing' sounding very nasty this time.

"What kind of peace and love cult is this, you little brat?" the ghost asked, anger lacing his words.

Fran looked at him in surprise, both at how he'd know about that statement to the last ghost and at how stupid these ghosts were.

"How'd you know about that?"

"We ghosts have a very good information system."

"Ah."

At this the room went silent again for several minutes as Fran just stood, watching the lazy apparition on his bed. Wasn't he supposed to be learning something? Finally, after growing tired of the stalemate between the two, Fran spoke up again.

"Umm…aren't you supposed to be doing some hocus-pocus junk or something? You know, teaching me a lesson or something like that?"

The ghost cocked his head, the chocolate currently in his hand disappearing from thin air. He nodded, apparently to himself, as he rose off Fran's bed, approaching the teal-haired frog.

"Ushishi. Yes, I guess we should get to it, shouldn't we?" the ghost asked, standing feet away from Fran.

"Yeah, that would be nice. I really don't want to be around you too long."

"Brat. Fine then, stupid mortal, behold my powers!"

The room seemed to spin wildly and Fran felt the urge to vomit as colors blurred together and the earth under him seemed to disappear. When all came right again, images popping out, colors blending into whole images and the world standing still once more, Fran found himself beside the ghost, elbow to elbow in a room he had sincerely hoped to never step foot in.

"Why are we here?" he asked the ghost.

"I'm showing you how much Christmas means to those around you and how your bitchiness is screwing it up for them. Maybe this will teach you to have a little holiday spirit."

"Christmas sucks."

At this the ghost faded and reappeared once more and Fran contained his urge to laugh. That was never going to get old. Turning away from the angry spirit, Fran took in his surroundings. They were in, of all places, Lussuria's room. Hmm, it looked nothing like the kinky torture factory Fran had imagined it to be. It was actually rather tastefully decorated. There was a little beige couch with colorful throw pillows, a bed with a fluffy comforter and pictures of the various Varia members placed here and there throughout the room. There was even one of him and Bel-sempai soon after he'd joined the Varia on a side-table. Fran thought it was weird and yet oddly touching that Lussuria would want a picture of him in his room.

And where was Lussuria? Well, he was sitting on the well-worn carpet, surrounded by boxes, bags and wrapping paper. Store-brand bags containing plenty of things were clustered around him. He was sitting there, sorting through these bags, humming holiday songs, the sleeves of his horrid Christmas sweater pushed up around his elbows. As Fran and the ghost watched, he picked a little box of sweets out of one of the plastic bags nearest to him and, looking around him, grabbed a bright red and green stocking from the floor. Now that Fran looked a little closer, he noticed that there were six stockings in a row to Lussuria's right, each baring the name of one of the Varia core seven. He watched, a bit confused, as Lussuria stuck the box of chocolates into Fran's already quite full stocking.

Lussuria laughed, holding the stocking in front of him with a look of utter satisfaction.

"There!" the resident spirit of Christmas chirped out. "One stocking finished. I hope our little Fran-chan likes it. Maybe it'll get him into the Christmas spirit! I mean, everyone likes presents, right?"

Fran watched as Lussuria set down the stocking and went back to working his way through the plastic shopping bag, sticking various other do-dads and little presents into various stockings, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth, a garbled version of 'Oh Come All Ye Faithful' hummed out around the appendage. Fran turned to the Belphegor looking ghost next to him.

"He can't see us, can he?"

"Ushishi," the ghost laughed. "For a little brat, you catch on quick."

Fran glared at this, but continued his question. "So who's he speaking to?"

"I don't know. And that isn't the point of this, brat! You should be thinking, hey, isn't that sweet, he's trying so hard to make Christmas great for everyone, even a little prick like me!"

"Really? I'm just thinking he's kind of stupid for trying to make a crappy holiday for a bunch of assassins."

"What kind of peace and love cult has assassins?"

"The cool kind."

The ghost sighed, looking at Fran. "Fine," it said, his voice clipped with ice. "If this doesn't get you, let's move on."

And once more, colors swam together and the room spun. Fran's stomach heaved and he doubled over, shutting his eyes. As the earth stood still again, he opened them, glaring up at the ghost.

"I really wish you'd stop doing that."

The ghost just laughed and Fran sighed, deciding to ignore the bastard spirit and focus on where he'd been taken this time. No big surprise, he was in another Varia member's room, this one being another one he'd never hoped to be in either. They were in the darkened room of Levi A. Than. A pile of Christmas presents sat by the door of his room, where Fran could only assume that the servants could easily get to them when they took them down and placed them under the tree in the early hours of the morning. Said member was kneeling in front of his bed, hands clasped. Fran couldn't help but be a bit afraid by what he was seeing. Levi A. Than, assassin and Varia member, was actually kneeling down and saying bed-time prayers.

"God bless Bossu. Let him grow and prosper. And my ever-loving God, may you let him see that he can rely on me, let him burden me with his troubles, let him praise me and rely on me. And God bless Squalo and may the merciful God in heaven strike him mute. God bless Belphegor and shall he allow the brat to continue slaying his enemies in the name of the Lord. And god bless Lussuria and continue to keep him happy and well."

Fran was snickering by the end of this little prayer, but his snickering soon died away as the prayer continued.

"And God bless Fran and may he allow the Frog to feel his love and his peace during this, the Lord's holiday. Help the little brat find the spirit of love and brotherhood during this time. Amen."

Fran was oddly silent as Levi rose and crawled into bed, the ghost snickering beside him.

"Touched now, brat? Isn't it sweet that he prays for you? He does it every night, by the way."

"No. No. That's just creepy."

"Ushishishi. You're going to be a tough student, aren't you?"

Before Fran could answer, the room was spinning again. It settled fairly quickly this time but he swore the ghost was doing it now just to mess with him. Well fine, two could play at that game.

"Christmas sucks, Christmas sucks, Christmas sucks, Christmas sucks," Fran exclaimed quickly, laughing as the ghost faded and reappeared numerous times. As the ghost appeared again for the last time, he growled down at Fran, who simply looked innocently up at him. They were in another darkened room and the loud snores told Fran exactly whose it was. He barely even needed to look at the stretched out figure of Squalo to know that this was his room. His eyes caught instead, first, on the huge pile of Christmas presents stacked by Squalo's bed. Ha, so even the long-haired stupid commander had gotten presents for everyone. What an annoyance. Then Fran's eyes swept to the bed. And he was overcome with the urge to rip out those offensive eyeballs as he stared at the sight of a naked Squalo.

The ghost's laughter filled the room for a second. "Ushishi. That's disturbing. Let's leave. Now."

The room lurched for another time and for the first time since it had started happening, Fran found himself happy to be disoriented and on the move. The room stopped spinning and this time, the ghost and Fran found themselves in a room that was vaguely familiar to the boy. This was Bel-sempai's room. Said 'Prince' was lounging on his bed as a maid slaved away, wrapping box after box.

"Ushishi," the ghost laughed at the same time that the real life Belphegor was doing the same. It was kind of creepy and very annoying to Fran to hear that laughter coming from two sources.

"Good looking one this time," the ghost commented as they watched Belphegor turn his head towards the maid.

"Ushishi," Belphegor laughed again and Fran noticed the maid, who already had quite the few little nicks on her, flinched violently at this. "Don't forget to put the stuffed froggy on top."

"Yes, Master Belphegor," the maid squeaked out, picking up and inserting a tiny stuffed frog under the dark green ribbon that surrounded the perfectly wrapped box she had in front of her.

"Good. That way everyone knows that that one belongs to the little frog brat."

"Yes, Master Belphegor."

"Froggy deserves it anyways. Now hurry up and finish up the rest, the Prince is tired."

Fran watched all this with a tiny hint of confusion. Bel-sempai had actually bought him a present? How out of character was that? He turned to speak to the ghost about this, but the room was already swirling and within seconds they had touched down in another room.

Fran coughed and gagged as he felt bile rise in his throat. This was getting very bothersome.

"I thought I asked you to stop that." 

"You did. I don't want to."

Fran groaned. "Anyways, why the hell did Bel-sempai buy me a present?"

"Because he, unlike you, is not a Christmas bitch."

"Wow that explains so much."

Fran shook his head as the ghost just smiled at him. Flicking his eyes around the room, he felt a little tingle go through him. This was Xanxus's room and he really hoped the boss would never know he'd been in here. No one was ever supposed to be in here. Not that the boss would know in his present state, sprawled over his chair, clean passed-out, a whiskey bottle still dangling lightly from one hand.

"Now would you look at that? Even drunk, he still has holiday spirit!" the ghost said; laughing a bit as he pointed to a stack of thick, white envelopes on a side table.

"What are those?" Fran asked, glancing at the envelopes curiously. He could see Squalo's name printed neatly on the top one.

"Your Christmas bonuses of course. See, even he has Christmas spirit."

"Or the accounting department does."

"You're just not going to be satisfied, are you?"

"No. Christmas is still stupid."

This time, as the ghost faded, the room spun and Fran's vision went black. He landed hard on the cold surface of his floor, banging his knees quite hard. A final 'ushishi' was heard throughout the room as the room came into focus. Thankfully, no ghost was there this time and Fran figured he was well shot of the second spirit. He swore lightly as he crawled over to his bed, groping his way up into the warm, inviting bed. That had really hurt the knees. Fuck this all, he was going to go back to bed. The last ghost could go back to wherever the ghosts had come from. Fran had had enough. Pulling the covers over his head, he firmly resolved to just ignore the next ghost when he came to call.


	5. Stave Four: Christmas Future

Despite his intense exhaustion, due in large part to poor sleep or constantly interrupted sleep, Fran refused to fall back asleep. His body curled into its self under the blankets, his knees hugged to his chest and his breathing even. But sleep he did not. His eyes were wide open, staring into the darkness of the surrounding blankets. He would not let himself sleep, he only let himself blink because when he had tried to stop himself from doing so, he'd quickly found out how painfully itchy your eyes can get. He was determined though that he would stay awake until the next ghost came. He was not going to get woken up and dumped on by anymore stupid ghosts. Nope, he would send the next one packing as soon as it arrived. Or better yet, as soon as it arrived, he'd just slip out the door and be gone. Or maybe play dead. He hadn't really decided on a set course of action yet. He'd probably just wing it anyways, that's the way situations like these normally played out in the end.

It had seemed like hours upon hours had gone by, curled up in bed, eyes searching the darkness for some sign. He hadn't heard the clock at all, so he had no gongs to guide him for the next chime of one. No light had poured into the room, no beings (or non-beings really) had sat down on his bed. He was beginning to think that he had seen the last of the ghosts but at the same time he doubted that. After all, the annoying Squalo ghost had told him that three ghosts would visit him, not including the hustling baby ghost. And the last two had shown up despite his wishing against it. Somehow he doubted that him giving the last two ghosts a rough time would make the last one decide not to come. But if the last ghost was going to appear, it really should be appearing soon, if it wasn't already there.

Sighing, Fran shifted under the covers, stretching out his body, which was starting to cramp up a bit. Reaching up, he slowly brought the covers down off his head. If a ghost was coming, it should be there soon. Or already was, Fran thought, as he found himself staring at a foreboding figure seated on a ghostly throne in the corner of his room. Like the previous two ghosts, it had taken the figure of someone instantly recognizable to Fran, for the reason, or so he figured, that it would be easier for him to deal with this if they looked like regular day-to-day people he encountered. Or they could just like screwing with him. He wasn't really sure.

This particular ghost had taken the form of Xanxus, sprawled across a semi-transparent, large and elaborately carved chair, a glass of amber-colored liquid in hand, which it raised occasionally. As Fran watched, it finished off the glass, only to have the glass refill itself. The Xanxus ghost was just sitting there, drinking, staring at Fran. It was a little unnerving to say the least.

"Umm…the ghost of Christmas Future, I take it?" Fran asked, not taking his eyes off of the ghost, who was Xanxus and yet wasn't. Not even Xanxus gave off that aura, the one surrounding this figure that gave the whole room the smell of pungent death, of rotting leaves and autumnal bonfires, the one that seemed to speak of ancient things and all things at the same time in your ear in soft, crooning, clotted whispers. Needless to say, this one intimidated the normally unflappable Fran.

The ghost simply nodded, bringing the glass up to sip at the liquid again.

"So…" Fran said, hesitating a bit. "What are you hear to show me?"

The ghost's eyes never left Fran, his red eyes seeming to lock in and seer through Fran's very being, even as the television in the other corner flickered back to life, filling the room with a wash of static-y light and the sound of white noise.

"So, what you have to show me is on the television?" Fran asked, slightly confused. Well, at least this ghost wasn't jerking him up of out bed and dragging him all over the place. That was a plus. But what he didn't understand was what, if anything, watching some crappy holiday specials would teach him about the spirit of Christmas or any Christmases he might have in his future. But he wasn't about to say this to this menacing, silent guardian of some sort of Christmas spirit so he just turned his head towards the television.

As soon as he did so, the static filled screen seemed to buzz to life, the black and white of the static brightening and shifting into high-colored images as scenes started to flicker across the screen. Fran found himself staring, transfixed, at the horrific images as scenes came and went, each one seeming to get horribly worse. This was like his own personal hell, but he seemed wholly unable to pull his eyes away from the terror he was looking at as a plethora of bad fanfictions sprang to life on the screen. There was many, many yaoi scenes between him and every member of the Varia, yaoi scenes of him and the Kokuyo Gang, yaoi scenes of him and people he had just barely, if ever, met. There were endless Mary Sue fanfictions splayed across the screen in sappy little scenes, all of which had him falling head over heels for some annoying woman, almost literally becoming a little puppy to her. There were many bad scenes of various other genres, all of which cast him as a tragic 'uke'.

He was aware that he was shaking and shivering, despite his efforts to stop this. Cold beads of sweat clung to him, the stench of fear rising off of him in almost visible waves. His stomach clenched, his muscles tightened and he lunged forward as bile rose, stinging sharply in his chest, his throat, and he hung off the bed, spewing vomit onto the floor. He was aware of dampness on his face and reached up a hand. He was crying. He hadn't cried in years.

"Is this…" he asked brokenly. "Is this what will happen to me?"

The spirit's eyes never lifted from him, it never spoke, it just watched him solemnly. Fran staggered up from the bed as the television faded back into static, lurching on his feet as he tried to make his way to the spirit.

"I said is this what will happen to me?"

The spirit never answered, just stared.

"Answer me dammit!" Fran screamed, lunging at the ghost and grabbing fistfuls of his jacket, only to find the jacket had faded to bedclothes and that he was smack dab where he had started, twisted and wrapped up in his blanket, his hands clenching the fabric so tight that one of his nails had torn down to the quick. His body was hot and achy despite his shivering and his face was damp from the tears. He knew that he hadn't imagined that. He knew it.

Getting up quickly, he set to work. He must not allow that to happen.


	6. Stave Five: The End

The next morning dawned, bringing in the perfect Christmas Day, bright and delightfully chilly, with big, fat snowflakes dancing down to kiss the ground. It was the kind of Christmas morning that everyone, young and old, dream about. It put you in the mood for big Christmas dinners, for eggnog and sleigh rides, for snowball fights and presents. And this was the Christmas morning that came upon the Varia base on the morning of December twenty-fifth.

Like most other mornings in the Varia, it was noisy from very early one. Lussuria, as always, was the first one to wake up, followed closely by the rest of the members. As always, there was the fight to see who'd be the first to the dining room, minus Xanxus, who of course was the first to go anyways. And the first to see, closely followed by the other members, the holiday miracle that had apparently happened over the night.

The Varia base was fully decorated and not in Lussuria's tacky ornaments anymore. There was a gigantic tree in the corner of the living room with piles of presents underneath and several smaller trees in select places throughout the Varia base, all beautifully decorated in various colors, each with its own corresponding angel. Garlands, cranberry strands, and tinsel were artfully arranged and the stockings that Lussuria had worked so hard on the night before were carefully hung around the fireplace in the living room. It kind of looked like an extremely gay, yet extremely talented interior designer had been allowed to run loose inside the Varia base.

"Oh my! It's beautiful! What's been going on?" Lussuria squealed out, hands clasped together in glee as he gazed around the redecorated living room, where the core members, minus Fran, had somehow all ended up.

"They're illusions. It's to replace the tacky decorations you put up yesterday," Fran said, walking into the living room to join the others. He'd spend most of the last night trying to make a good Christmas, illusioning decorations and gifts, setting up a complete Christmas feast for lunch, and just generally trying to get into the Christmas mood. He'd definitely learned his lesson. "Oh," he tacked on, "Merry Christmas by the way."

The other Varia members just gawped at him for a second before, with an almighty squeal; Lussuria tackled him in a bone-crushing hug, picking poor Fran right up off the floor.

"Aww…Fran-chan is finally in the Christmas spirit!"

Fran could hear Belphegor snickering in the background as he awkwardly patted Lussuria on the back, returning the other man's hug in his own little way before the other man released him. The maid's bustled in at that moment with fresh coffee and tea and various lovely-smelling breakfast dishes.

That's when the conversation (and inevitable fighting) broke out and Fran was mostly forgotten. Squalo and Belphegor headed straight for the presents under the tree while Lussuria went after them, crying out about how he'd hand out the presents and how the two over-eager and very loud Varia members weren't allowed to just rip everything to shreds. Xanxus sat sprawled in a chair, coffee in hand while Levi stood silently and anxiously behind him like a loyal lap-dog. Fran just stood watching the scene quietly.

"VOOOI! FROG-BRAT! COME AND GET YOUR STUPID PRESENTS!"

Fran chuckled inwardly as he headed to join the rest of the group…no, the rest of the family.

Maybe, weird and fucked as it was, there was something to this Christmas thing after all.


End file.
